


oh, you make me feel alive

by valkyrierising



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Cunnilingus, F/M, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Near Death Experiences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 21:45:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9143452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrierising/pseuds/valkyrierising
Summary: And that’s what he thinks shocked him the most - that someone, especially Jyn who wasn’t a stranger to the things he’d done, always more perceptive than met the eye, had more than enough reason to be rid of him, somehow always came back to him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i'm gonna be real honest I saw this on the rogue kink meme prompt and had to do it. title comes from consoul trainin's 'take me to infinity'

Hearts were incredibly fragile things, organic mess aside. He knew of ten different poisons to stop the heart without anyone knowing the wiser.

 

His had been torn out when he was six, replaced by … not exactly coldness, but a hollowed out area where it would have been had his family survived. Instead, it was survival tactics, an ache that couldn’t necessarily be healed but dulled enough to do the jobs the Alliance asked him to do, the ones that got him promoted to the top.

 

The dreams were the second thing to go - when he sleeps, he sleeps like the dead. It had taken a few traumatic experiences when he was younger to flush the nightmares from his system. Instead, they plagued him during his waking hours, appearing at the most inconvenient times. But when he slept, they never came. Resting was just for mechanics of it, never to truly relax.

 

And then Jyn Erso happened to him, an unexpected tornado and had reordered the things inside - his heart, thudded faster when she came by and his dreams - they were of her, of them. Sometimes of their almost death on Scarif and other times it was a future. She’d made herself a home in the hollowed out areas that hadn’t been touched in ages, stoking the dying embers of everything that’d long been dormant.

 

He supposes that somehow, in the bruised and battered mess of hers, he had gotten inside as well that she hadn’t cut her ties with the Rebellion. Jyn’s original wildfire had become focused, a torch to lighting the path of renewed rebellion as she joined and surged in the ranks of the Pathfinders. He smiles when she tells him as much, the colliding body of hers finding his once he came out from sitting in a council hearing. She tells him they’ve given her a team and she looks at him with joy, their initial mistrust of him a stark image versus the absolute hope, the edge of determination they have now - he can see why she’d been nicknamed Stardust. She felt like stardust incarnate, especially in her eyes.

 

Most devastatingly of all, she looked at Cassian with _hope_. They didn’t exactly start off on the right foot, but the mission to Scarif, the path from Eadu, all of it had rolled itself into something of a precarious balance between the two of them. While the base was wary of her previous Imperial connections, they weren’t strangers to imperial defectors and had buried that immediately. Everyone became friendlier towards her after Scarif but it’s not like she was seeking out friends.  She wasn’t unfriendly by any means but she was made for leading, and she was driven. She was also convincing when needed to be, especially when her spirit wasn’t crushed. It wasn’t something he didn’t already guess after Jedha and Mon Mothma had certainly seen as much that she didn’t undo the Sergeant ranking they’d thrown upon her during Scarif and instead guides her towards the path of leadership. But for him, Jyn was a harbinger of better things, with her expressive eyes that he would follow her to Scarif, to anywhere she asked really, if she continued to look at him like that.

 

It was unlike anything he’d ever been looked at before, he found himself wanting more of it.

 

Jyn had crawled under his skin, made herself an extension of him and his thoughts. Even Mon Mothma had tried to keep them as a team, watching them in that analytical (potentially amused, he’d taken a hard hit) way as they held each other up through sheer force of will given their injuries after Scarif. His memory of that day was a hazy recollection but he did recall the visual of Jyn pushing medics her way to him first in startling clarity.

 

She made herself part of his cracked edges, the unforgiving parts easing with her. And it wasn’t that he regretted any of his past, had known it was for the cause and that it was always easier to seek forgiveness than ask permission, but that dull ache had faded as she arrived, letting him see light at the end of the tunnel once more.

 

His thoughts towards Jyn weren’t exactly… gentlemanly in nature but he was always good at self restraint. It was an altogether stranger feeling because it’s not like there weren’t others (naturally, as intelligence there were times when it was truly nothing but charm that would get him anywhere) but he never let them get under his skin, never felt the same draw to them as he did to her.

 

It was a feeling he wished to act on but couldn’t because she was under his rank and there was so much life left in her, unlike the weariness he shouldered. While she had helped renew the drive and purpose, it didn’t feel like something he could not inflict on someone like her. The difference between the two of them past Scarif was jarring, and feeling like he was in the presence of a supernova. She still had fire inside of her. It was why he would only entertain thoughts of her in his sleep, with nothing but his hand and memories of her together to give him release. What it came down to is that Jyn Erso deserved someone better than he was.

 

She did make it harder though - she never avoided him and in fact sought him out, her presence a comfort to his. He’d found himself by her so many times, can feel her body language even without looking at her. He can tell when she’s particularly frustrated or when she’s happy, can feel it as if she’s transmitting to him. It’s during one such day that she slides up to him in the mess hall not even bothering to go across and steals food from his tray.

 

“You could always get your own,” he says without looking up from the pad. He can sense the tension, decides to not look up yet as she stretches in front of him to grab at the plate.

 

“Yes, but you’re not eating it and it’s a shame to waste food,” she says, and he can feel the smirk come from her as she eats at least half. He’s acutely aware that she wants to say something but instead continues looking at his datapad - he hadn’t moved from his original spot since she showed up - but allows her to decide whether or not. The sound of eating winds down, feels her stretch forward before she says anything.

 

“Are you my friend?” She asks, nudging his shoulder with her own. He looks up from the datapad in confusion, an unexpected question from her. It seemed incredibly simplistic coming from her, a question that was obviously answered.

  
“We almost died together?” He responds, uncertain of where she’s going with this. She narrows her eyes at him, tapping a hand against the table.

 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she says by way of explanation and he only wonders if she can somehow read minds.  “You don’t look for me unless I’m looking for you and I want to know. Am I just an asset that turned unexpectedly really valuable and do we part ways now? Because if it is I can leave.” He looks at her, watches as her jaw remains strong, the expressive eyes filled with sorrow and hurt.

 

Her blunt honesty is refreshing as it is disarming, so many half truths choosing now to reappear. It was the best and worst parts of being around her, that her bluntness demanded no lies. Three beats of silence, the hazel of her eyes swirling like stars realigning as he gathered up the words to respond.

 

“I will be there if you ever need backup. I’m your friend,” he says, hand resting on her knee. “That will not change. ”

 

“Good,” she says, a satisfied smile creeping in, eyes lighting up as she closes the distance in between them. It’s a shock to all of his sense every time she hugs him, because the distance in which he held himself from other was a constant companion and Jyn broke through it always.

 

From what he gathered, she was tactile and as such was prone to affection, especially in the way that she interacted with Bodhi and Baze and Chirrut. She wasn’t affectionate with everyone besides their group. He thinks that she would trust any of them implicitly. These things he filed away because she trusted them, trusted _him_ , in a way that she hadn’t been accustomed to in so long it seemed like she was making up for lost time.

 

Most of all, she always gravitated towards him, sought him out as her companion. She had no idea what she did to him, what she brought out, what he wanted more of. So he doesn’t avoid her, but he tries not to cause her doubt - it was already a difficult endeavor, one he wasn’t sure if he was deliberately failing at.

 

Her and the rest of the Pathfinders come back from a mission after a bit just as he’s finishing up paperwork. The announcing breaks the dreariness of the paperwork, getting up to meet them in the cargo area. Following Scarif, his fall left his leg at a bad angle and Mon Mothma had expressly forbidden Draven from sending him back into the field until the leg could be used properly. So while his leg struggled to hold up as he crossed the path, it was getting easier to do so.

Jyn has a dazed look on her face, being held by a few soldier as they had a doctor on her.

 

“Get off,” she grumbles, looking at him with tenderness when she finally spots him breaking through the crowd around her.

 

“She took a nasty fall, Captain,” one tells him and Jyn snorts. It’s oddly endearing but she stops struggling when he takes his place beside her.  
  
“It’s nothing I haven’t had worse of,” she says as the doctor harrumphs in response. They finally let her go, making sure that she didn’t have symptoms of a concussion.

 

“Can I talk to you?” She says, catching him by the wrist. He’s slightly worried as she does so, wondering what on earth she could do until she passes by into her quarters and then she’s pushing him up against the door, kissing him like he’s oxygen and she needs more. Her kisses are sloppy, uncoordinated, as if she’d never kissed anyone before. The thought does a lot more for him than it should.

 

“Slow down,” he says once she’s broken the kiss from his lips and moved down his neck. He drags her back up to his face, her grip on his jacket tightening as she takes in deep breaths.

 

“I almost died. Again,” she says, breathless.

 

“You do that a lot,” he says, by way of witty response because he can only think of one way that sentence could end and he’d done his best to not think of that path.

 

“And you? I haven’t trusted someone like this in such a long time. I haven’t had someone stay. So naturally, it’s probably just the fact that I haven’t had many friends but you’re not someone I have any friendly inclinations towards,” the words rush out. “I want you Cassian. And it scares me so much.” His heart sings at the words, at her vulnerability, at the fact that she wants him as much as he wants her.

 

“Are you positive you didn’t hit your head?” he can only respond, gets a mean punch to the arm.

 

“Anyway,” she responds again. “I’m wondering if you feel the same.” He responds by pressing down to her mouth, kissing the words out of her mouth and holding her tight. Her hands exploring underneath his shirt as he pushes the band out of her hair, raking his hands through the strands, forces her kissing to slow down.

 

“The second thing is I haven’t done this with anyone else. I mean I know things but,” she says as his hands make their way lower, unbuttoning her pants. She squirms in his grip, looking resolutely at the wall until he presses a kiss to her cheek, nuzzling into it.

 

“It won’t be a problem Jyn,” he says, guiding her onto her bed, undoing her pants and pushing them down so that she can step out of them. Her smallclothes are the next thing to come off as he kneels between her legs. She shivers slightly, running his hands down her trembling legs as he opens them.

 

“So,” he begins, as if he has all the time in the world, letting his fingers dance up her thighs until they’re near her cunt. “How was your day?” She gives him a dark look, partially amused, partially aggravated until he pushes one finger in, and then the other, moving inside to find out what would work best. Breath hitching, she keeps her focus on him.

 

“It was fine until someone just barely managed to trip a landmine. And then we had to run.” She stops, looks at him with catlike precision as he continues his languid exploration. However, her focus shakes as he looks up at her innocently, crooking his fingers in a way that has her gripping the bed.

 

“I didn’t trust easily. And when most people are willing to use you as bait, it tends to lower your judgement of people.”

 

“But you trusted me. You still do.”

 

“Trust went both ways, Captain,” she grits out, clenching her thighs around his hand as he continued the one hand to move inside. He took his time because they had the time. His report needed to be filled in by the end of the day but she was here, had sought him out, had trusted him enough to allow herself to be vulnerable. And that’s what he thinks shocked him the most - that someone, especially Jyn who wasn’t a stranger to the things he’d done, always more perceptive than met the eye, had more than enough reason to be rid of him, somehow always came back to him.

 

“How did you take care of yourself then?”

 

“I’m a girl Cassian, not an idiot,” she rolled her eyes. “My only company was myself and you get creative.”

Only then did he press his mouth against her cunt, relishing the way her whining filled the room, how he could drive her to the edge. His tongue danced deftly inside her, finding ways that had her drawn up to his mouth, her hand finding it’s way to his head. He tugged at the pulling she did, exploring deeper into her as much as possible when she had her thighs around him and held on for dear life. The best part was the fact that she hadn’t stopped crying his name the entire, scrabbling for purchase as she rode out her orgasm against his face.

 

What felt like hours was probably minutes, Jyn shaking slightly as he moved from her cunt, watching as her thighs were a shade of red. She looked at him with hunger in her eyes as he got up from the ground, pulls him back to her as she tasted herself on his mouth and pushed him underneath her.

 

“Good?” He asked, watching as she got rid of her jacket, her shirt and her breast band. She was naked on top of him, a sight to last him for days. Before she threw her clothes onto the nearby dresser, she had taken a packet out from the pocket to hold it up.

 

“Good,” she replied, “I want more.”

 

“We have as much time as is possible.” She looked at him thoughtfully, pressing a kiss to his nose before her hands went down towards his own pants, causing him to almost come on the spot. Her hands work fast, undoing his pants as she rips the packet to place over his cock and settle herself above it.

 

Her brows furrow in concentration as she adjusts to him inside of her, hissing slightly as he feels his own breath catch in his throat at this feeling. He lets her set her pace, doesn’t expect her to make it down his cock or to move fast, the friction between them growing unbearable as she’s unsteady on him but trying to find her rhythm.

 

He rolls them over, watches as it steals the breath out from her lungs and slows her down, pushing into her and pulling out as gently as possible.

 

“Cassian, if you don’t get any faster, I might yell.” She says, huffing as he tried to make this as good as possible for her. He nips at her neck in response, getting an annoyed grumble in response.

 

“Patience Jyn,” he whispers into her ear, holding the leg she had wrapped around his waist as an anchor while he continued his slow pace, the push and pull inside of her. She drags him down for another kiss, causing his careful concentration to slip, hips snapping against her as he spent himself early.

 

“We have time,” she parroted back towards him, rolling him back under her as she took her place back on top of him. This time, he even let her set the pace without interfering.


End file.
